“I love you, I do ...” Written by Zoleka Mandela for 2010.
I quickly sat up on the bed when I heard the shower door open.
Loosened the silk sheet covering my body and ran my fingers through my weave.
It had been a very long night but I felt a million times lighter this morning.
I rested my chin on my palm and drummed my fingers on my knee, I couldn’t help but smile.
I watched him cut off the water and reach for the shower door.
The steam from the hot water clung to his body while tiny water beads rolled down and made a puddle on the bathroom floor.
What is it about this man that I love so much, “Damn,” that is all mine ... I should pinch myself.
We met five years ago at a friend’s wedding, we danced for what felt like hours.
I still remember it as if it were yesterday, I’ll never forget that that evening.
Five years later and this man is even more handsome than when I first laid eyes on me.
I noticed how water was still trickling down his body, he prefers to air dry.
Naturally, I prefer to watch him.
How can any man look so incredibly sexy brushing his teeth?
I watch him doing push ups on the bedroom floor and it's enough to make me go crazy.
I’m still so in love with him.
I still get butterflies in my stomach each time he walks into a room.
Did I mention how he makes my entire body tingle with just his words.
The water on his greying beard makes it glisten, I am beaming.
I should’ve joined him in the shower but we both know what that always leads to. I laugh.
I want to kiss off all that water, I think to myself.
I can’t get enough of him.
He walks into the room, humming the tune to the song he composed for our fifth anniversary last year.
“So when are you having my babies, Seven?” I smile.
He gave the nickname when we were in Italy years back, the number of times he had me screaming his name out loud in just one hour.
We almost got caught on the plane ride to Spain.
“You say that every morning when you wake me up,” I say.
“No, I tell you that I love you and I want you to have my babies,” he laughs.
“What would you like for breakfast, baby?” I ask him.
“I could put something together for you.”
“That’s okay, mamma,” he kisses me on the forehead and hands me his palm oil.
I sit by the edge of the bed and I look at his ungreased body as he stands in front of me.
Oh my, does he really expect me to behave.
I look up and he’s smiling.
"Again, Seven?" he giggles.
"I love you woman, I do." he says.
He kisses me and nibbles on my lip.
"So damn good," he says.
He sits down right next to me and turns around.
“Baby, can you start with my back today?”
He lays on his stomach and climb onto of him.
I would actually prefer his body wrapped all over me, to hell with the silk sheets.
I grab the bottle of palm oil on the bed, shake it up and squeeze some onto his back.
“I need to ask you something, baby?” he says.
“Ask away, baby!” I answer.
I placed my hands on his back, “Oh, my God!” I yell.
“When did you, how did you?” I ask.
I leap off the bed, he turns around, stands up and gets on one knee.
The engagement ring on my finger was the exact duplicate of the one I drew years ago.
"I had it custom made for my baby." he says.
Tears trickle down my cheeks.
"I love you so much," he says and a tear trickles down his left cheeck.
“Will you marry me, baby?”
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